Chuck Versus The Landing Gate
by AwesomeChuck
Summary: Chuck comes home from a mission, but where's Sarah?


**A/N: **I wrote this story in the timeline of season 5 when Team Bartowski is being hunted. I hope you like it! I still don't own Chuck, but I did preorder season 5 on Blu-Ray!

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><p>Now that we are being hunted, I had to fly commercial. I had barely recovered from the nervous encounter with the security officer checking my passport, asking questions and generally making sure, I hadn't arrived to blow myself up the first chance I got.<p>

Upon realizing I was in fact just an "innocent tourist" his mood changed and politely bid me good day and let me pass; the smell of seventeen-hour workdays hung around him and reminded me that I had indeed been fortunate in life.

As I emerged from the tunnel, dragging my suitcase like a dog reluctant to go for the daily walk, my eyes quickly scanned the area, knowing who they were looking for.

I panned from the left to the right, hoping that you would become visible to me as the boring features of exhausted travelers reduced me to a state of light frustration, like the one you experience when some bad news has just been delivered yet the situation is not all together hopeless.

I recognized some of the faces in front of me; the old lady that had been my companion for the last fourteen hours, yet somehow, we managed only to engage in conversation for the embarrassing duration of five minutes. I wondered if I should approach her with some half-hearted smile and wish her a good holiday or whatever she was here to do.

A sting of guilt hit me in the gut, as I couldn't recall why she was here, even though she eagerly had discussed it thirty thousand feet in the air. I decided that talking to her again would only lead to an uncomfortable silence and possibly further embarrassment; she might have invited me to grab a cup of coffee with her. I then realize I was spiraling. I abandoned the ill-advised thought and took a few steps toward the crowd that had gathered around the exit of which I had currently walked through.

There were lonely people standing there holding signs containing last names and grandmothers calling out for their grandchildren like an old farmer calling out for his sheep. I resumed to my duty of trying to locate you, but once again, I failed, feeling my anxiety level rise within me as a result. What if she wasn't here?

Again, I decided to quickly discard the idea and write it off as ludicrous before it grew and developed in to a genuine concern. I felt like I knew you too well for that to be a move you would pull off and I calmly made for the visitor's lounge, neatly folding my coat on the seat beside me.

Last thing I needed was for some strange man, waiting for someone, to join me and thus engage in conversation. After being silent for almost a day, I felt the need to speak, my mind comparing it to the act of a simple stretch of the legs.

I needed to talk, but I had decided to keep that privilege for when you arrived. Clearly, you had been delayed somehow; traffic could have been bad and you could be stuck for miles long, cursing at your misfortune. I checked my phone, but it delivered to me the bad news of nothingness and I quietly put it back in to my pocket.

No message or call missed. The idea of traffic being the sole reason of us being apart seemed less likely now and the anxiety crept back in to my mind.  
>What if she wasn't here?<p>

The sight of other lovers greeting each other with the same passion and excitement, which I had previously reserved for us, didn't help the matter.

A young woman I recognized from the flight and from the back of the passport queue had finally made it past the ill scented security guard and was now out in the open, scanning the entrance hall just as I had done moments earlier.

Fortune was on her side, it seemed, as it was presented in the form a young, well-dressed man sprinting through the crowd, calling out her name.

Her face lit up with happiness and as they embraced, it seemed to me like people joined to together in a cheesy applause, cheering them on as they spun around and kissed.

Although I didn't mean to, I silently cursed them for stealing the moment which should have been ours to experience; you in my arms as our lips joined together in a romantic moment so well planned and executed that even Shakespeare would have to take a deep breath and bask in the light of our glorious love.

I shook my head, trying to pull myself back together. Surely, I had something better to do than wish misery and failure upon other couples in love. I re-checked my phone and much to my disappointment, you still hadn't left word.

I resumed my childish little game of conjuring up scenarios, which would explain why you weren't here.

I thought about you being in an accident, but that wasn't very likely, as you definitely would have left some word to inform me of the tragedy. I then went further down the list and checked off the possibilities one by one as neither of them made sense. Car trouble, natural disaster and the apocalypse, though certainly dramatic choices, they didn't seem to form the right picture.

Something was wrong, that much was for sure. It wasn't as if you had been waiting and suddenly been approached by an old friend or distant relative and gotten caught up in conversation. In that case, you would have politely excused yourself and resumed your role as the welcome committee.

I now began questioning myself over and over again, trying to find some flaw in my recent behavior deserving of the painful fate of being left at the airport, unpicked like some dirty luggage not even the police deemed interesting enough to be a threat.

No, something was wrong. I had done something; something bad.

I hadn't forgotten your birthday and I was certain I had remembered our anniversary. I retraced the latest events from days past, desperately trying to find an explanation or a hint as to what crime I had committed. Nothing. My mind was now numbed down in to a state of fear and paranoia. What had I done?

The question echoed inside my head and my shirt began to feel uncomfortable as the perspiration of uncertainty set in, making it unbearable to remain seated. I got up, accidently knocking over my luggage.

In panic, I let my hands run through my hair, my pulse rapidly increasing and the natural act of breathing got heavier to perform properly. It wasn't the thought of being on your bad side that disheartened me; it was the thought of not knowing what I had done that scared the life out of me.

I spun around on my heels, scanning the hall one last time; maybe I just didn't see you at first?

My failure became complete as I returned to where I was originally standing only to find that I had nudged the suitcase an inch or two, causing it to tip me off balance as my right foot got caught in its handle and quickly I found myself on the floor. As I laid face down in embarrassment, an old man offered me his hand. I barely remembered to thank him as I got up on my feet, my head dizzy, and my face red with the disgrace of causing a scene.

Once again standing up, I now felt calmer and had a brighter outlook on things as I came to realize the vastness of my overreaction. Even though the relentless itch of paranoia still kept up with its persistent beat, I could not help but let go of a slight chuckle at my own stupidity.

I surrendered to its consistent nagging and finally produced my phone, intent on calling you. I dialed your number with a certain amount of hurt, biting my bottom lip. How could you do this? The question echoed in my own head and for once, my mind did not look for excuses.

It was right before I pressed the call button it happened. A voice called out my name. I heard it across the hall over by the doors; a voice, which I had heard many a time before, a voice, which I loved dearly. Yours.

I turned around and I saw you running towards me, wearing that brown leather jacket I love so much, your black jeans tight and your boots high up on your shins. My heart melted as I saw the relief in your face and without giving the command, my feet kept moving towards you.

As we collided together in each other's arms, I heard you whispering my name, whether it was the lack of oxygen flowing to your lunges or from the pure happiness of seeing me once again that reduced your voice to this was uncertain.

What I did know, however, was that the happiness you displayed was real and that led me to the conclusion that you had indeed been detained against your will.

Finally, we kissed from the first time in what seemed like an eternity and we were the ones standing there displaying our love for all to see. In my head, I heard the applause from the bystanders and I smiled against your lips in silent triumph.

"What happened, Sarah? You're late." I stated after our lips parted. You blushed and held me closer. "I couldn't find a parking space; I've been out there for half an hour!" A sting of guilt hit me right in the chest as I acknowledged that what kept you running late was indeed something outside your control and that I had indeed been overreacting this entire time.

"What did you think happened, Chuck?" You asked seeing as my face blushed and I made that face which you knew meant that I was cursing myself. I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and decided to come clean. I held your face in my hands, took a step closer to you, looking you right in the eyes and with the confidence of a man, just rescued from certain death I said:

"I thought the world ended."


End file.
